


take my body home

by ledbythreads



Series: Heart in your hand [11]
Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: 1977, Airplane Sex, Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Consent, Don't Like Don't Read, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fight Sex, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Needles, Non-Explicit Sex, One True Pairing, True Love, here be dragons, lost!Jimmy, on tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledbythreads/pseuds/ledbythreads
Summary: 'He does indeed lack fucks, but they have not gone entirely. They are just rolling round on the floor like scattered marbles. Even on a Boeing 720 you can feel the turbulence.'
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Series: Heart in your hand [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523687
Comments: 27
Kudos: 39





	take my body home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlofthemoon75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlofthemoon75/gifts).



He thinks Robert has been yelling at him for a while but he’s not sure. Well, he’s not exactly yelling but berating quietly. Insistently. On and on and on. They must be in the plane and the walls are thin. Jimmy has no idea what Robert is angry about. So many things apparently. Jimmy doesn’t like to admit to any lapse in concentration, so he feigns just not giving a single fuck. He does indeed lack fucks, but they have not gone entirely. They are just rolling round on the floor like scattered marbles. Even on a Boeing 720 you can feel the turbulence.

He wants so badly to just reach out and put a flat palm on Robert’s chest. Stop. To touch him and feel something. Anything. But he feels too sore, too pushed away. Instead he rolls to the other side of the bed and reaches for his works. If something will make Robert just go away, then it is this. Robert particularly despises the affectation, the ritual of heroin. Jimmy has purposefully gone out of his way to push it further. The case is an elegant artist’s roll of tooled leather. The syringe is 1920s, though the needles are new because the latest technology is important in certain matters. The spoon is Art Deco with a slightly heart shaped bowl that reminds Jimmy of the Welsh love spoons Robert once carved for him. It feels like a long time ago.

“Don’t”

Robert’s hand on his wrist. It elicits a shocking jolt of rage that Jimmy is surprised he is capable of feeling. Too far. Robert can presume indulgences in many things. Never this.

“Get your fucking hand off me”

“That’s not what you said backstage”

Wasn’t it? Jimmy cannot remember.

“If you need a wank, Robert, you’ve always got Audrey”

“Don’t. This isn’t about her. Isn’t about sex”

“Isn’t it? Isn’t it always just sex with us baby? If I make you come will you fuck off?”

For the first time Robert’s touch is making his skin crawl as much as it is, as always, making him weak.

“If you could get it up…”

“…Right. Like I ever needed to…”

“…on stage. If you could fucking play…”

“I have never. Never…”

“instead of spacing out like some…”

“Watch your mouth Robert.”

“… self indulgent Vegas magic act…”

As he goes to slap him, he knows he has lost. Is lost. He can’t fight him like John can. Can only flap at him like Oscar in a tantrum with Bosie. Robert’s not Bosie. He pays his own way. Oscar was an idiot who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Jimmy is not about to brawl with his lover in a plane full of camp followers and their assistants’ assistants. He pulls back his hand and hunches; back arched like a wet cat.

“Go”

Robert is still holding his other wrist. He pulls Jimmy hard towards him.

“No. Fight me”

Robert’s eyes are lit.

They never do this. They don’t fuck to fight or fuck to make up. They don’t do hate sex. They don’t slam each other into walls ripping each other’s clothes and ravening at each other’s throats. They don’t push each other to their knees and Robert doesn’t pull his head back by his hair. Robert doesn’t make him beg and fuck his mouth till he’s choking and crying and pliant and drowning in his own pleasure. Because Robert is his golden hippie baby and he can never really get him there. Can never really ask. Jimmy holds Robert’s gaze. Licks his lips.

“Fuck. You”

Robert grabs to cover his mouth with a clumsy hand as Jimmy rolls away twisting his arm. Robert scrambles across the bed after him. Drags him back by the same arm. His fret hand. _Careful you fucking idiot. If you’d learned these games properly years ago, you’d not be risking the tour over getting your rocks off_. That edge of true danger. That Robert might hurt him by mistake. That’s when he goes under. Jimmy feels himself get hard for what feels like the first time in weeks. He’s awake. He gives Robert his full attention and bites down till he tastes blood.

Robert takes his hand away like he’s hardly noticed and pins Jimmy down with most of his weight. For the first time Jimmy doesn’t need to guide him, coach him, he was wrong. Robert isn’t going to hurt him by accident. He is going to hurt him on purpose.

He is going to take him apart so he can put him back together.

“Say yes”

That’s Jimmy’s line. Robert looks so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Still. Jimmy can see the scars red across his elbow, feel the stiffness in his hip. Feel how pain has changed him.

They are both panting. This is going to go really badly because Robert is going to hate himself for a while afterwards. He’s going to give Jimmy what little is left of his innocence. Jimmy knows he doesn’t deserve it. He still loves him more than he ever thought possible.

“Yes” a whisper

Robert licks his own blood off Jimmy’s teeth

This kiss feels like Robert is trying to resuscitate him and suffocate him at the same time. Jimmy remembers the time Robert’s voice just went entirely. Doc Larry jacked him up with something and as his voice came back, the first thing Robert did was tell Larry to fuck off. But he was grateful. Pathetically grateful. Even as he knew the damage. This is how Jimmy feels now. As Robert strips him. Manhandles him. Spreadeagles him face down. He knows enough to tie him without damaging Jimmy’s wrists at least. Jimmy usually feels Robert does this too diligently like he’s consulting some sort of interior checklist. Like he’s jump-starting a car. But now he can feel Robert’s need to bind him. His hard desire to put Jimmy where he wants him. To bring him to heel. It turns Jimmy on. It breaks his heart. 

Robert is sitting across his backside; his left hand on the back of Jimmy’s neck, pinning him until he is woozy with wanting. Maybe Robert will just fuck him fast and get it out of his system. Leave Jimmy to sleep. Jimmy has nothing to give and so little that can be taken. His body is betraying him again with its demands to be fed, to piss, to have Robert’s skin on his skin. He’s never told him in words how much, how desperately he loves him. His body can’t hide it.

The searing cold and the stink of the surgical spirit is the last thing he expected. The big shock is that Robert can surprise him. Robert is swabbing his back – where his wings would grow if he really was a dark angel. Jimmy cares far too much about his craft to let his tracks get infected. His works do lean a little to the medical as well as the aesthetic. Who says a modern heroin habit cannot be managed rationally? Nobody will ever be able to say he isn’t functional. Capable. Robert putting on latex gloves though. Is that rational? He could probably stop him. Probably. It’s a calculated risk.

He doesn’t want him to stop.

He wishes Robert would say something. Something kind.

When he feels the first needle go in, the thing that gets him the most, is how gently Robert does it. He lets out a little sob. Robert’s not mad at him. Not really. Can’t stay mad at him once Jimmy is helpless. It is so achingly sweet. His baby. He is still his sweet baby. Just his baby lion with his claws out. Jimmy is so sorry. So sorry he’s so far away. So lost.

The second and the third needle, and the heat starts. In his back. In his belly. By the fifth he is gone down. Under Robert’s hands. Moaning and grinding his hips. By the tenth needle he is liquid gold, molten on the bed. The sun reflected in two crescent moons across his shoulder blades. Two golden sickles of heat and he is a sheaf of ripe corn in their wake. Cut down. Gathered in. Robert unties him and sits him up. He is a doll with glass eyes and an embroidered mouth that cannot speak. Robert is his god. His personal Jesus. His resurrection. Robert kisses him between his eyes and Jimmy starts weeping. It feels so good to cry. He misses the rain in England.

“What do you need honey? What do you really need?”

Robert’s voice is far away. He lets Robert pull him into his lap. Everything is streaked with delicate rainbows like from sandalwood oil in bathwater. He is snivelling now, and he curls against Robert’s chest. His armpits smell bitter like he always does when he’s been angry, but underneath he just smells warmly, painfully, of Robert. Of home.

It is so hard to speak. His eyes flutter closed like those baby dolls when you tip them flat. Robert won’t lay him flat though, not with his back full of thorns.

“Jimmylove”

His eyes flip open. Robert hasn’t left him. Never leaves him.

“Forgive me. Please baby”

Oh no he’s hurt him. Hurt Robert. Didn’t mean to but Robert’s face is creased with pain. Like he’s back in the wheelchair. _No baby no more pain please. Just let me go. Let me slide away. I don’t deserve you._

A hand at his jaw. Tipping his head up. Firm, strong. Robert all grown up.

“Look at me”

Storm blue eyes. The storm has passed.

“I forgive you Jimmy. Now and always.”

Pain gives way to sadness. Shame and then the acceptance of shame.

“I want you”

“I want you too. Oh darling.”

This time Robert’s kiss is like a blessing. Like the cool interior of a small church on a hot summer day. Like trailing your fingers in the water of the font. Like watching a bee on the flowers someone has brought from their own garden. Robert takes out each needle in turn and drops them in the ashtray. Takes off the gloves. Touches Jimmy with reverence. Skin on skin. Lays Jimmy down on his side and curls against his back. Soft cool kisses where his wings will grow back. Holds him tight round the waist.

Robert makes love to him in their old way. Softly, surely, with nothing but honey in it. Nothing but love.


End file.
